


The Fault in our Stars (A Destiel AU)

by Glittering_Cards



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Background Sabriel, Bi!Dean, Crying, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, GUYS THERE ARE TWO ENDINGS I SWEAR ONE HAPPY AND ONE SAD, Happy Ending, Human AU, Major character death - Freeform, Prankster Gabriel, Sad Ending, TFiOS, The fault in our stars, bisexual!dean, human!AU, tfios au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1862637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glittering_Cards/pseuds/Glittering_Cards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a boy with cancer. And so is Castiel Novak. They meet in a lame as hell Support Group and decide that life with terminal cancer should have some love in it. You will laugh, and you will cry, and if you want to read the alternate ending, then you will be filled with joy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This whole story is solely based on Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural) and The Fault in our Stars (John Green)  
> While writing this i had the book infront of me and changed things to how Dean would think, and how Cas would talk. Most of this is really close to the actual book.
> 
> Version on Wattpad for those who choose: http://www.wattpad.com/56942917-the-fault-in-our-stars-a-destiel-au?d=ud
> 
> Anyways, I'll update as often as I can! (:

In the fall when I was seventeen my brother figured out I was depressed. Well, he thinks I'm depressed. He said it was because I'm either always home, or always out, I spend too much time sitting on the couch, read the same horror stories over and over again, ate way too often, and think about death.  
  
When you read about cancer and all that they always list depression as a side effect. But it's not depression that's a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of dying. (Well, life in general is a side effect of dying.) But Sammy kept telling me that I need help, so he called my doctor. ("If a fourteen year old does this so can you!" he shouted) Doc Singer said that I was practically drowning in a pool of depression, so my meds needed to be adjusted, and that I had to show up at some lame weekly support group.  
  
The Support Group had people rolling in and out in a bunch if states of cancer. Why did the group always have different people? Well, it's a side effect of dying.  
  
And of course, The Support Group was depressing as hell.  
  
Everyone met on Thursdays in the cellar of a church that was shaped like a cross. We all sat in a circle in the middle of the cross, pretty much where the heart of Jesus was.  
  
The only reason I paid attention enough to know this is because Ellen, the Support Group Leader, and the only adult in the room, talked about it every time. Ellen always went on about how all of us are so strong, and brave and us as cancer survivors are sitting in the oh-so-special heart of Jesus.  
  
So here's what goes down every Thursday night: the eight to twelve of us walked (or wheeled) in, avoided the various amounts of bakery, (Everyone knows Ellen's daughter Jo can't cook.) took some lemonade, and sat down in a circle listening to Ellen go on again about her life story. She had breast cancer, and they thought she only had days, but she lived, and now she's here in a church basement in the 666th nicest city in the U.S, her husband died, she's married to her job, and she raises Jo. (Who, by the way, has a big fat crush on me.)   
  
Then we introduce ourselves: Name, age, diagnosis, how we’re doing all that crap. I'd say I'm Dean, and that I'm seventeen. I'd say that I originally had thyroid but now there is fluid deciding just do get all cozy in my lungs. And I'm doing just fine.  
  
Once we finally got around the circle Ellen asked if anyone wanted to share. And the group finally became an actual support group. Everyone started talking about battling and fighting back and almost losing and kicking cancer right in the ass. But to be fair to Ellen, she let us talk about death, too. Of course, most of them weren't staring Death in the face.   
  
The only good thing about the Support Group was this girl named Charlie; she's  a nerdy redhead with an eye patch who loves to play videogames.  
  
And she only had one eye. She lost her left eye due to cancer, and she didn't want a creepy glass eye (There's this chick, Pam with glass eyes) so she went with the eye patch instead. But, from what I could gather in the very few times she ever shared is that her right eye in in mortal danger (her words not mine) and they're gonna chop it off too (also her words.).   
  
Charlie and I spoke only through grunts, sighs, and eye rolls. Whenever someone brought up anticancer food or talking about taking some strange shit, she'd glance over at me and sigh. I'd shake my head.  
  
So the Support Group sucked, and after a couple weeks I got sick of it. In fact, on the Thursday I almost didn't go, I met Castiel Novak. I tried as hard as I could to get out of the Support Group, but Sam wouldn't budge.  
  
I had been watching a Doctor Sexy M.D marathon of all the previous seasons when Sam came up to me.  
Me: "I'm not going, Sammy."  
Sam: "I told you not to call me Sammy, and yes you are."  
Me: "C'mon, just let me watch Dr. Sexy."  
Sam: "No."  
Me: "Why."  
Sam: "Because, Dean! You're seventeen! Normal kids are supposed to be out doing stuff! You need some friends."  
Me: "If you want me to be a normal teenager go get me some beer."   
Sam: "Dean. You're going."  
Me: "Ugh."  
Sam: "You deserve a life, Dean."  
  
That got me quiet. Despite not being able to breathe my whole life, I've always taken care of Sammy when Dad was too lazy to. I went because it was what Sam wanted. There's only one thing worse than having cancer at seventeen. It's having a brother who has cancer.  
  
Dad let me have the Impala since I can't do anything but drive. But, John of course, drove me because he does't trust me to go myself. We pulled infront of the old rusty church about six minutes early.  
  
"I've got it, Dad," I grumbled. I grabbed my oxygen tank and head out the passenger door. The tank was dark green and weighed about a pound. It held about 2 liters of oxygen, and there was a clear tube connected to it that wrapped around my ears and let oxygen flow into my nose. It's pretty much mandatory because me lungs are shitty lungs.  
  
I walked away from the car without saying a word.   
  
I didn't take the elevator because that's more of a 'I'm gonna die soon so why the hell not' thing, so I took the stairs. I poured some lemonade into a tiny paper cup and then turned around.  
  
There was a boy staring at me.  
  
I'm pretty sure I've never seen him before. He was a little bit shorter than me, but only by an inch, and he was kinda skinny, but sort of muscular. Raven colored hair, and bright blue eyes. He looked my age, and he sat upright in his chair looking uncomfortable.  
  
I turned looked away, becoming slightly self-conscious. The guy looked like he could stare into your soul. I glanced down at what I was wearing. I had a pair of old, wrinkly, jeans, a plaid shirt and an AC/DC shirt. But despite all of this I looked over again and he was still looking at me.  
  
I suddenly realized why it's called eye contact.  
  
I walked into the circle and sat down next to Charlie, one seats away from him. The only thing between us was Charlie. I looked over again. He was still staring.  
  
Alright, let me say it. I'm not gay. I'm in fact bi, except I usually go after girls. Or went. But this guy was hot. When a not hot guy is staring at you it's pretty awkward. But if it's a hot guy... well.  
  
I grabbed my phone and checked the time: 4:59. The circle of us were pretty much twelve to eighteen year olds with cancer. Ellen started with a prayer. I didn't really pay attention though. I don't believe in God, because even if he was real, why hasn't he done anything?   
  
The guy was still staring, and I felt my face start to heat up. I decided the best strategy was to stare back. So I stared at him as Ellen told her story of having breast cancer, and running this bar that I can't even go to. After a while Charlie piped up.  
  
"Can you two stop having eyes sex?" she muttered. I darted my eyes away, and I'm guessing blue-eyes over there did too.  
  
Ellen continued and them we got to the introductions. "Charlie. Would you like to go first? I know you're going through a hard time, maybe talkin about it'll help."  
  
"Oh," Charlie said, shocked. "Sure. I'm Charlie. I'm sixteen. And I'm getting surgery soon so I'm going to be blind. I'm not complaining though, I know most of us got it worse, but yea, being blind sucks. My girlfriend helps, though. And so do friends like Castiel." She jerked her thumb to the guy who now had a name. "But, yea. Can't do anything about it." She shrugged.  
"We're here for you, Charlie," Ellen said. "Let her hear it, guys." We all mumbled, "We're here for you, Charlie.  
  
Alfie was next, he was twelve with leukemia. He was okay. Supposedly, he took the elevator.   
  
Bela was sixteen, practically on death's doorstep, but she acted fine. She's a regular because her grandparents make her go.  
  
There were a couple others before Ellen got to him. The side of his lip curled just slightly. He had a low, gravelly voice, and it was damn sexy. "My name is Castiel Novak," he spoke. "I am seventeen, and I had osteosarcoma eighteen months ago, but I am here on Charlie's account."  
  
"And how are you feeling?" asked Ellen.  
  
"On top of the world," Castiel Novak smiled where only the corner of his lip curled.  
  
When it was my turn, I said, "Name's Dean. I'm seventeen. Thyroid with mets in my lungs. And I'm okay."  
  
The hour went on as it usually did, with good victories, some pretty stupid ones, some people cried, and comfort was given. Castiel Novak nor I spoke until Ellen asked Castiel what his fears are.  
  
"Fears?"  
"Yes, Castiel."  
"Oblivion," he said automatically. That gravelly voice gave me a shiver down my spine.  
"I fear it as if I were about to go blind and afraid if the dark."  
"Aw, c'mon, Cas," Charlie elbowed him. He rubbed his arm and shrugged.  
"Sorry, I suppose I'm blind to other people’s feelings."  
Charlie laughed, and Castiel realized what he had just said. He laughed at his own joke and it sounded like puppy-dogs and rainbows.  
"Let's return to your struggles, Castiel," Ellen sighed. "You fear oblivion?"   
"I did."  
Ellen looked puzzled. "Would anyone like to speak to that?"  
  
I haven't been to a normal school in years, my brother is my best friend, and an author who doesn't know I exist, I'm a sarcastic ass, and absolutely not the kind of guy who raises their hand. But I did.  
  
Just this once I decided to say something. I raised my hand half way and Ellen, to her delight, called on me. "Dean!" She probably thought I was opening up, being part of the group.  
  
I looked over at Castiel Novak, who looked right back at me. His eyes were so vivid and clear it could make you lose your thoughts. But I didn't. I took a deep breath, "Cas, if I can call you that," blue eyes nodded, "There's gonna be a day where all of us are dead. There's going to be no one here, not a single living, breathing, thing. There won't be anyone to remember the famous guys who get paidd for who knows what, let alone you, me or anyone in this room. And this whole room, /this whole building/ will be insignificant. Maybe we're all gonna die tomorrow, or hey, maybe we'll be dead before that. So if oblivion freaks you out, man, I suggest you just ignore it. That's what everyone else does."  
  
After I finished the whole room was quiet. I watched a smile spread across Cas's face. Not just a smirk, but a big toothy grin. And if that doesn't look like unicorns and sunshine I don't know what does. "You have quite profound words, Dean," Cas said quietly.  
  
Cas and I didn't speak the rest of the time. In the end, we all held hands and Ellen led us in a prayer. We prayed for Charlie, Alfie, Bela, Castiel, and me, and everyone else in the room. Then we prayed for everyone who passed away, like Ruby, Lily, Alistair, Gavin, Ash, and Meg.   
  
The list was endless, the world has a lot of dead people. I closed my eyes and wondered about the day my name appears on that list. At the end, where no one is listening.  
  
When Ellen finally finished we said this stupid phrase at the end like we always have to, and it was over. Castiel Novak got out of his seat and walked towards me. He was an inch or two shorter than me, so it was easy to look at his eyes more closely.  "What's your name?" he asked.  
"Dean."  
"Your full name, Dean."  
"Dean Winchester." He opened his mouth to say something, but Charlie walked around. "One moment, Dean Winchester," and he spun around. He turned to Charlie, "There was terrible."  
"I told you it was bad."  
"Why do you come?"  
"I don't know. It just, sorta helps I guess."  
Cas leaned in and asked something quiet enough so I couldn't hear. Castiel turned back towards me, expecting Charlie to say something. But she didn't, she just kinda stood there and said, "Well, I should get going. Gilda is probably waiting for me."  
"Are we playing that.. game tomorrow?"  
"It's Counterinsurgence, Cas. And yes," Charlie said. She spun around and her hair almost whipped Castiel in the face. Then she ran off up the stairs.  
  
"So this is /literally/ the heart of Jesus?" he asked.  
"Yep."  
"Someone should tell him. I do not think that it is wise that there are children with multiple types of cancer in his heart." I don't think Castiel meant to make a joke, but I laughed anyways.  
"Well, it's too bad we can't tell him because we aren't in his ears." He looked at me and turned his head to the side like a dog.  
"What?" I asked.  
"Nothing," he said, still staring.  
"Why are you looking at me... Like that?" I gestured to him.  
"Because you're beautiful, Dean Winchester," he said.  
"Cas, it's not cool to call a guy beautiful."  
"It is acceptable. Calling a man cute implies he has feminine features, hot and sexy imply sexual desire, and gorgeous is a hollow compliment," he explained. Honestly, this guy was 100% correct. But I couldn't let him win.  
"What about attractive?" I tested.

“The word attractive could hardly describe your physical qualities,” Castiel said.

“I’m not beatif-“

“You look like Jensen Ackles, but younger. Like in that Batman movie Charlie likes.”

“Never seen it,” I told him.

“I hardly paid attention when she brought it over. You should see it. If Charlie likes it so much you might too,” he said.

“Okay, I’ll ask my brother to find it,” I smiled.

“No, I mean now,” he said. “Charlie didn’t take it with her, so I still have it.”

I stopped, “I hardly know you, Castiel Novak. You could be a demon that wants to kill me.”

“That is understandable, Dean. But I assure you I am no demon.”

Castiel walked off with a slight limp in one leg. It’s a prosthetic. I was sure of it. He walked up the stairs, his weight relying more on his left leg. Osteosarcoma takes a limb a lot of the time, and if you’re unlucky enough it takes all of you.

I followed him up the stairs, slowly, considering that I hate the stairs.

We were out of ‘The Heart of Jesus’ and finally on the sidewalk. It was nice outside, I guess. Cas turned his head up and watched a bee fly away.

Dad wasn’t there yet, which was obvious. I glanced around because I heard some strange noise coming from somewhere. And it was Charlie and her girlfriend Gilda. It sounded like they were sucking each other’s faces off. Honestly, I like the idea of kissing someone like there’s no tomorrow, but that is _not_ the way to do it.

“Why do they keep saying always?” I asked Cas.

“I believe it is them showing each other that they will always love each other. That or it is a ‘Harry Potter Thing,’” Cas used air quotes. “I believe that they have said it to each other approximately 309 times via text message.”

A couple more cars rolled by taking a few other kids who were waiting. So it was just me and Castiel. And we were still watching Charlie and Gilda swallow each other. And as if this wasn’t even a church or some other holy place, Charlie grabbed Gilda’s boob. She grabbed it normally first, then trailed her fingers elsewhere. I figured I should just be cool with it considering Charlie’s going blind soon.

“Imagine driving to the hospital. The last time you will drive a car, or anything that involves _seeing_ what you must do,” I said.

“It looks like Charlie is hurting her breast. What is so arousing about grabbing a chest?” Castiel looked over at me. He is so definitely gay. Not that I’m complaining, of course.

“I don’t know, I guess they just are,” I said.

“It appears as if she is trying to form a breast examination.”

“Yea, that’s not how you do it,” I said. Cas looked at me with those blue eyes and a cocked head.

“Are you…” he obviously wasn't sure if I was into him.

“Bi, Cas. I’m bi,” I sighed. Why the hell is sexuality such a big deal?

“Ah,” he said, and got that Mona Lisa smirk back.

Cas reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and put it in between his lips. Unlit, dangling from the side of his mouth that was at ease.

“Are you _kidding me,_ Castiel?” I asked. “You just ruined this whole thing, Cas.” I crossed my arms and turned away from him.

“What... Whole thing?” he asked. I heard the smile in his tone, and I wasn’t sure if you was mocking me, or knew something I didn’t.

“The whole, this guy isn’t unattractive, has a big vocabulary, stares at me for an hour, and compares me to an actor in Batman, and seriously! YOU AREADY HAD CANCER, and know you are paying people FOR MORE CANCER? Seriously! This is really disappointing.”

I felt slightly pissed and disappointed because this guy could have been pretty cool.

“Dean Winchester, they do nothing until they are lit,” he said.

“What?”

“This unlit cigarette,” he pulled it from his pink lips, “is a metaphor. You put something that can kill you between your lips, but you never actually let it kill you.”

“So… How you act, is based off of metaphors and symbolism?”

“Mostly,” he said.

I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Sam.

Record the next episodes of Dr. Sexy. All of them Samuel. I’m watching a movie with Castiel Novak. Tell dad not to bother picking me up. –DW

Apparently I was mumbling my words as I typed, because Castiel asked “Doctor Sexy M.D, huh?”

“Oh shut up,” I grinned.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry It's been a week ): My only excuse: personal problems (ugh), family stuff, and swimming. Anyways, this chapter isnt all too eventful. I'm going to try to get through half of Chapter Three tonight. Hopefully. So, enjoy! (:

Castiel was a horrifyingly terrible driver. It’s like he’s never driven before. When you start or stop the whole car, along with your head jerks forward or backward. He told me that he drove a beige pimpmobile that was apparently his brother Michael’s. But Michael hated it after buying it so he gave it to Cas. And Cas had no choice. I should have been nervous, being with a strange, nerdy guy on the way to his house, but his driving was so terrifying I couldn’t think of anything else.

“I failed the driving test three times,” Castiel finally said.

“You don’t say.”

“Well I can’t feel anything in my prosthetic, and it is quite hard driving with my left food. I swear I am trying to go as gently as I can. The instructor said on the last time that my driving was uncomfortable and unpleasant, but not dangerous. So he let me pass,” Cas explained. He jerked to a stop at a red light.

“I don’t know about that, Cas,” I told him. “I think it’s just a Cancer Perk.” Cancer Perks are these small things for kids with cancer that kids without don’t get. Like homework passes, basketballs signed by the players, stuff like that. That includes unearned driver’s licenses.

“Yes. It was,” he said. The light turned green and the car jolted forwards.

“Cas why don’t you just get that hand shift things?”

“Maybe one day,” he said. He sighed, and it made me wonder how confident he was in that.

You can pretty much ask someone how long they think they have to live without actually asking them, “So, Cas. You in school?” Your parents usually pull you out of school before you bite it.

“Yeah. I’m at North Lights High,” he said. “Except I was a year ahead. But then I got held back a year because I missed so much school. What about you?”

I kind of wanted to lie. But it was no use, he’d figure it out sooner or later. “Oh, uh. My dad pulled me out a couple years ago. I take online college classes, and my kid brother helps me. He’s a genius.” I laughed to myself thinking of the time Sam threw a fractions paper he had for homework at me because I was pissing him off. "But he can't help me anymore. I've been out for three years."

"Three years?" Cas sounded obviously shocked.

"Oh, yea." I told him about the whole dumb cancer thing. (I just didn't tell him I lost my virginity about three or four months before I got diagnosed.)  
By the time I was fifteen I got this freaky kind if surgery where they did something to your neck, and then they tried chemo. The tumor shrank and then it grew again. I was pretty much screwed. My lungs filled up with water and I looked like a zombie.

I remember when I was about to go into that surgery. They gave me something, I can't remember now, and everyone was hugging me and holding me hand like a huge chick flick moment. My lungs just kept gasping for air. I remember that Sam was crying. He told me to let go if I had to. That he'll be okay. I told him I loved him, because, well, we're brothers. And I remember trying to let go. I remember my lungs refusing to give out. And I remember that I did not want to be awake.  
When they managed to finally extract the fluid from my lungs they gave me this medication, Phalanxifor that only works on 25% of people they gave it to. And the son of a bitch worked. So my tumor shrank.  
"So now you can go back to school," he said. He said it like it was a simple statement, but it was really a question.

"Actually, no, Castiel," I looked at him. "Because I got my GED already and I'm taking classes at UK."

"You seem like a very laid back college student," he said. He smirked and looked at me for a second before turning back to the road. I smacked his arm and laughed. Even though it was true.  
Cas turned into the driveway of a large- huge- white house.

I followed him in and we were greeted by a kid who looked about fourteen, and I can of silly string.  
"Hey little bro!" he shouted at Cas.  
"Gabriel I've told you to stop calling me that you're three years younger than me."

So Gabriel just sprayed more silly string at us and ran off.  
"He seems pleasant," I said. Cas had silly string in his hair and I wanted to brush it off.

Cas groaned and looked at his shirt. "I am so sorry, Gabe is always pulling pranks on us. Usually me because we are the closest, but it doesn't matter," he said.

"No, it's cool," I smiled at him.  
I looked over at the wall behind him, and it had some dumb and cheesey 'God will save you' thing. He turned to see what I was looking at.

"Ugh, I hate those. They show up everywhere. I don't even practice religion, yet here these are," Cas seemed pretty sick of them from what I could tell.

"Yea, I'm not into it either," I shrugged.

Cas's mom was in the kitchen reading a book. (The Bible?)

"Mother this is Dean Winchester," he introduced. But he didn't seem all to confident. "he's a friend from the Support Group and we're to the basement ."

Cas's mother just waved her hand and continued reading her book.

We walked down the stairs to the basement.

"I apologize about my family, Gabriel is a handful, and Michael is in college, but he is not pleasant either, and my mother is generally silent," Cas seemed genuinely embarrassed.

"They seem all right," I told him, "and you said you and Gabe are close, so it can't be too bad. Right?"

"No, I suppose not."

We were in the basement, and it looked like a bedroom. There was a bed with grey sheets in the corner, and a shelf with blue and red ribbons (but there was a hell of a lot more blue) that looked like they were from science fairs, a tv that was gathering dust, and a huge bookshelf.

"You did science fairs?" I asked out of breath.

"Yes, and I still do," he looked at the ribbons, then over at me.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I was sitting on the edge of his neatly made bed. I wasn't trying to say 'let's bang because life's short, and even shorter for us,' or anything. Just standing around and stairs kind of... take my breath away.

He sat down next to me and grabbed the underneath of his knees. He was cute in a nerdy kind of way.

"How many siblings do you have?" I asked.

"Just two," there was a change in his tone, just a little bit, but I could hear it. "Do you?"

I nodded, "Yea, just Sammy. Or Sam as he likes to be called."

"So what's your story?"

"What?"

"What is your story, Dean Winchester?"

"I already told you," I said kinda confused. "I was diagnosed when I was thirt-"

"No. Your story, not the one about cancer," he said. "Like what interests and hobbies and passions or weird fetishes you have."

"Um."

"Dean Winchester please do not tell me you are someone who has become their disease," he said.

"I'm not really that extraordinary," I said.

"I do not believe that. In fact, I completely reject that. Think of something you like. The first thing you think of."

"Reading?"

"What do you read?"

"Just about anything. Horror stories to cheesy love poems. And music lyrics, whatever."

"Do you write poetry?"

"Nothing to write about. I don't think I could anyways it-"

"Yes!" he half yelled.

"What?"

"You are one of the very few teenagers in America that read instead of write poems," he seemed like an excited puppy. "What books do you read, Dean? Are they the good ones? Good as in- all time famous good?"

"Um," I said.

My favorite book, ever, is The Blade's Hilt. Yea, I know it has a cheesy title, but it is my favorite book to ever exist. I don't like to tell people about it because it feels like I'm betraying my affection towards it.

Its not that the book was spectacular and puppies and rainbows; it was that the author, Fergus Crowley seemed to understand me.

But I told Cas anyways, "My favorite book is The Knife's Hilt."

"What is it about? Wait, no," He said, "don't tell me."

"Alright, but I don't know if you're into the same kind of stuff I am," I told him.

"If this is a book you have read and enjoyed then I want to, also. But, Dean Winchester," Cas held up his finger and walked to his bookshelf to pick a book. He picked up a pen and scribbled something on the inside, "You must read this." He handed it to me.

When his hand brushed mine those bright blues widened. He grabbed my wrist. "You're so cold."

"Nah, just underoxygenated," I told him.

"I like it when you speak medically," he said. He put the movie in and sat down next to me. We sat a bit too close to eachother, and he held my hand (no chick flick moments though) and didn't let go the whole time.

* * *

 

  
We watched the movie about six inches apart from each other. He squeezed my hand at random times, and I did the same, figuring apparently that's normal. Gabe came down and threw an open bag of chips at us and yelled dinner. The chips went everywhere. I went down to pick them up, but Cas told me not to and he did it himself.

As the credits rolled on the screen Castiel said, "That wasn't that bad."

I shook my head, "Not bad at all." I looked at the DVD player's clock. "Uh, I should probably get going, I have classes in the morning."

Castiel grabbed his keys from the bedside table and stood up. He gave me his hand, but I hit it away because damn it I can get up myself.

I drove Cas's car back to my house with him in shotgun. He played me a few song by this indie band. Usually I hate bratty indie shit, but these songs were pretty nice. I kept looking over at his leg- or where his leg used to be. I didn't want to care that he was missing a leg, but I did. And I'm sure he cared about my oxygen.

I pulled up on the street corner of my house and Cas turned the radio off. I think he was thinking about kissing me. And hell, I sure was thinking about it too. I've never kissed a guy before, just a bunch of girls. But that was before I was diagnosed.

I shifted the gear into park and looked at him. He was beautiful. (Yea, a hell lot more than just attractive.)

"Dean Winchester," he said, "it has been a pleasure meeting you." He winked with that Mona Lisa smirk on his face.

"Nice meeting you too, Cas Novak," I said. I could hardly look him in the eyes right now because of how damn blue his eyes are.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" Cas actually seemed kind of nervous.

"Easy tiger," I smiled, "don't wanna seem over eager."

"That is why I said tomorrow. I would like to see you later tonight. But I'm willing enough to wait tonight and half of tomorrow.

"You don't even know me," I said. I opened the car door and got out. I stood infront of the door with my hand on top of the car. "How 'bout I just call you when I finish this?"

"You don't have my number," he said almost too innocently.

"Well I'm gonna guess you wrote it in here," I tapped on the cover of the book.

A smile grew on his face, "And you say we don't know eachother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! If you noticed that I didn't give Cas's book a name then thank you! (For being so observant) If anyone has any suggestions, then go ahead and comment! It would be much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter strayed pretty far from the actual book. Oops. Not really though. Tessa takes place of Kaitlyn, and I dont actually remember Tessa all to well. Just her sass. And I can't believe I finished this today. I'm working on chapter four, but it most likely wont be up until Wednesday night. (est)

I stayed up all night reading the book Cas gave me. It wasn’t The Knife’s Hilt, but the protagonist, was pretty likeable. So I ended up waking up late on Friday. Sam never woke me up, because it said when he was nine that is sick person law. (He was pretty cute when he was nine.) So I was pretty alarmed when I woke up to his shaking me by the shoulders.

“It’s almost eleven,” he said.

“Sam, go away,” I rolled over. “Sleep fights cancer.”

Sam looked at the book on the foot of my bed. “Must’ve been some book if you’re reading something else.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” I said.

“Did that guy give it to you?” Sam sat on the bed and winked.

“By it do you mean genital herpes?”

“Yes, Dean. Genital herpes. No! The book you jerk.”

“Bitch. And yea, Cas did,” I smiled.

“You _like_ him,” Sam stretched out the word ‘like’ like a four year old. He elbowed me and I shrugged my shoulders. “I _told_ you, Dean.”

“Sam, go away. I’m not talking about a possible boyfriend with you,” I mumbled as I picked up my pillow and pulled it over my head.

“No, you’re getting up,” Sam grabbed my shoulder and pulled me up. For a scrawny thirteen year old he’s pretty stong.

“Sleep fights cancer,” I said with my eyes still closed. I probably looked fucked out because Sam started laughing at me.

“Why don’t you text Tessa or something? You haven’t seen her in a while,” he said. Tessa was my best friend. The reason I say was is because I haven’t been to highschool in three years, and she most likely has better friends than me now.

But it was still an idea that wasn’t terrible. “Fine,” I said. I grabbed my phone from the side of the bed and send her a text

“Is it actually ‘cool’ going to the mall?” Sam asked using air quotes. It was cuter when Cas did it.

“Sammy, I have no idea what is actually cool for normal teenagers to do, because I don’t really care.”

* * *

I texted Tessa, showered, pulled on a plaid flannel, and then took my morning classes. About a half hour into class she texted me.

Nice to hear from you, Winchester! The mall at 4:05? –TD

Tessa always has had a bunch of friends (I was her closest) and her time was always narrowed down to the minute.

So Sam was right, going to the mall is actually cool. I’ll meet you at the food court –DW

I shoved my phone in my pocket again, and felt it buzz again.

Yea, yea, yea, Winchester. You need to know what normal people do, you can’t stay hidden behind those nose tubes forever –TD

I rolled my eyes and didn’t bother responding. She’s such a little shit sometimes, but I can’t help but love her.

I drove to the mall at three-ish. There was a bookstore there, so I went and bought the next two books of the trilogy that Cas gave me.

I watched the kids play in the indoor playground and thought of Sam. He and I used to be like that, and the first twelve-ish years of his life are the only years of his childhood. Because it used to be me worrying about him and taking care of him; now it’s him always taking care of me. So instead of worrying about stupid stuff like that I finished the book Castiel Novak gave me.

At 4:05, exactly (she’d be on time for her own death) she strode into the food court. She was wearing a white shirt (tank top?) a brown leather jacket (my idea), and black jeans, and she looked pretty hot.

“Dean,” she said with a smirk on her face. “How are you?”

“I’m alright, I guess, how are you?” I asked.

“I’m not even sure,” she sighed. But she perked up instantly. (Tessa’s family died when she was young in a car crash, and she has some anxiety.) “Wish you were still at school, some of the boys at our school now are _drop dead gorgeous.”_

“Nice to hear I guess,” I said. Hopefully she heard the ‘Tessa I don’t actually give a shit,’ in ‘Nice to hear I guess.’ She rolled her eyes.

“Well, you should see Aaron Bass now. _Dear god_ that boy got hot,” she said. I rolled my eyes again and she sighed. “Fine, I’ll stop. How’s the health?”

“I’m alive, so good,” I shrugged.

Tessa grinned, “That stuff really works doesn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“I need your opinion.”

“On?”

“Clothes.”

“Black leather, flats, or a white button up,” I said. I hadn’t really meant to say white button up, but it sorta just, came out. Damn it, Cas.

She rolled her eyes, “God damn it, Dean. No. I mean for school.” She huffed, then realized I said button up. _Shit._

“Wait, did you say button up?” She asked with this dumb sly smile. “Who wears that?” she elbowed me, “And did they take it off?”

“What? No! No, I didn’t mean to say that,” I said quickly.

“You’re hiding something. Spill,” she demanded.

I groaned. When Tessa knows something is up she gets it out of you. But you can never get anything out of her unless she wants you to. “There’s this guy, his name is-“

“Yes! I knew it! I _knew_ you would end up with a guy,” Tessa screeched.

“Ugh, Tessa, stop,” I said. She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the nearest girly store. “ _His name_ is Castiel. But everyone calls him Cas. And he has these crazy intense blue eyes, and dark sex hair, and what I’d give to-“

“ _Dean!”_ Tessa scolded. You know what? Fine, all I was going to say was mess it up more. I wasn’t going to go into detail.

“I wasn’t going to go that far you pervert. Anyways, I met him in that dumb as hell Support Group Sam wants me to go to. And he’s like, this guy, with a huge vocabulary, I can tell, and he makes accidental jokes, and he’s just this really cool guy,” I swear if my cheeks were red I would kill someone.

“Oooh, Dean has a crush,” Tessa teased. She picked up about five skirts that look exactly the same and walked toward the dressing room. “What else?” She asked as the door slammed shut.

“Um, well, he’s friends with Charlie. And it turns out she’s a total nerd with this girlfriend named Gilda,” I thought about the time Charlie was grabbing Gilda’s boob. “And he gave me this book. It’s not bad. It’s sci-fi.”

The door swung open. “Sci-fi?” she asked. Tessa seemed disgusted.

“Yes, Tessa. Sci-fi. You should try it sometime,” I said. I looked down at her skirt. “Tight skirts don’t work on you.”

She made a scoffing sound and shut the door again. “Then get me pleated!”

“Tessa I don’t know what the hell that looks like.”

“It’s I think four racks over, it looks ruffley but it isn’t ruffles.”

“Great description, Tes.” I walked over to four racks over and grabbed a blue black and grey skirt that I _think_ were pleated. I went back to her door and threw them over the top. “This it?”

“Yes, thank you. Now go on about Castiel.”

“Uh, well I just met him last night. So there isn’t much to tell just yet,” I said.

“Then what does he look like?” Tessa asked.

“Dark messy hair, sex hair pretty much, intense, like really intense blue eyes, and he’s pretty much the same height as me Just an inch shorter maybe. And he’s just,” I hesitated for a second. I didn’t want to say beautiful even thought it was the truth, because Tessa would go aww and I’d never hear the end of it. “He’s just… great.” I finally said.

Tessa opened the door again. “That is the mushiest thing I have ever heard out of Dean Winchester, I need to hear more,” she said seriously. “How about this?”

She was wearing the blue pleated skirt, “Looks nice.”

“Good, you have a brain.” She shut the door again.

I sighed. Tessa is so… Tessa. I wanted to finish Cas’s book, but I knew that would be rude. “And we watched a movie last night. He insisted that I came over so we could watch this batman movie because apparently, I’m Jensen Ackles.”

“You _are_ Jensen Ackles, Dean Winchester.”

“Whatever, I don’t really see it,” I rolled my eyes.

“You didn’t do the lame-ass yawn- arm thing did you?” she asked.

“No! We just… we held hands,” I mumbled.

“Huh?”

“We held hands,” I said not loud enough for her to hear clearly.

“Dean! Speak up you shit,” she huffed.

“Cas and I held hands! Okay?” I said annoyed. A mom and her daughter looked at me weird, I mouthed sorry at them and they walked away.

“Aww!” she shrieked. ‘Winchester, you dumbass,’ I thought.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, can it,” I groaned.

“I can’t wait for the day you two get married,” Tessa was obsessed with people’s lives, and took it to the extreme sometimes. “I’ll be your best-woman right?”

I groaned, “Cas is the first guy I’ve dated in three years, chill out Tessa. It’s been one day.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “But I called it first.”

“So what the hell are you up to, now?” I asked. I haven’t talked to her in a few months, so I was curious about my (best?)friend.

“Um, dating this guy, but he’s such a douche bag. So not really, school, grandparents are fine,” she stopped for a moment, “Nothing new.”

“Hm.”

Tessa tried on the other two skirts, bought two sweaters and another leather jacket (I picked that out for the record.) and then she headed home. I didn’t leave though. I went over to the other side of the mall to read. I didn’t want to go home. Not yet, at least. I love Sam and all, but he might hound me to do something, and I’m not ready for that yet. I finished the first book (I only had ten pages left) and almost finished the second with five chapters left when a little girl came bounding up to me.

“What’s that in your nose?” she asked with her ponytail flying behind her.

“Er, it’s called a cannula. It has oxygen coming from here,” I pointed to my oxygen tank (Who is named Adam) “and it comes out here,” I pointed to the openings at my nose. “It helps me breathe.”

“Krissy!” her father scolded.

“No, no it’s okay,” I said looking at him.

“Would it help me breathe too?” Krissy asked.

“Maybe, let’s see,” I pulled the tubes off and let her put it behind her ears and by her nose.

“Tickles,” she laughed.

“I know right?” I said.

“I think I’m breathing better,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Yep!”

“Well, I wish I could give it to you, but I really need the help,” I said. I already felt the loss of air. I got a little bit light headed and my lungs felt heavy. Krissy gave the tubes back to me, and I wiped them with my shirt then placed them back where they go.

“Thank you!” she smiled.

“You’re welcome,” I smiled.

“Krissy,” her father scolded again. She ran off to his side.

I went back to my book, but I couldn’t help but think about Krissy and Tessa. The thing about Tessa, even though we were best friends for two years, it will never really feel normal talking to her again. Since I’ve been out of school, and only talking every few months, I’m just not too sure what to say to her. And Krissy, she seemed like a sweet kid. She didn’t know any better, and she was curious. I like that for some strange reason.

But anyways, I like being alone for some reason. Even though I wish I still had a friendship with Tessa like I used to. And I buried myself in book two of the in the Burnt Feathers series.


End file.
